


Object of My Reflections

by hiddenlongings



Series: Reflections [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Insecurity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenlongings/pseuds/hiddenlongings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The warm darkness meant that he couldn’t see anything so he had nothing to blame but emotions for the way his eyes burned.  He felt like a dramatic fool for practically diving away from Coulson and hot footing it for the exit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Object of My Reflections

A/N: I know that I marked this series as finished but I had a wretched night and I wanted to write some anxious!Clint fic. If I have to suffer through social anxiety so should he. This seemed like the universe to indulge with.

* * *

 

Clint lay curled up into the smallest ball that he could manage as he tried to bury himself under a pile of pillows and blankets in the dark.  He didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t really want to even be awake at this point, but sleep was miles away and he couldn’t gain any ground on it.  Phil’s words thrummed through his head.

“You’re everything.”

“Bullshit.  Bullshit. Bullshit.”  Clint muttered digging deeper in his soft nest and scrubbing his short hair before grabbing on and pulling it until his entire head throbbed with the pain.  He just needed to get it out of his head.  Needed to forget.  Hell he needed to leave.  He’d already bolted from the Tower but he needed to get further; out of country out of mind further.   

All jokes about birds coming to roost aside Clint had managed to set up a few of these comfortable little bolt holes in several of his favorite large cities and New York was no exception.  They were never large and they very rarely had electricity but Clint had always felt safer in them than he ever had in his sprawling floor in the Avengers Tower.

The warm darkness meant that he couldn’t see anything so he had nothing to blame but emotions for the way his eyes burned.  He felt like a dramatic fool for practically diving away from Coulson and hot footing it for the exit.

“You’re everything.”

Clint burrowed even deeper and he felt a nudge of pained discomfort as one of his elbows rapped the cold metal that had been buried beneath the mound of soft materials.  Usually the heavy weight of the cloth would have been more than enough to leave him feeling protected and sheltered, not this time.

Clint’s eyes flew wide in a futile bid for sight when he heard a low tread below the duct he had nestled himself into.  The building hadn’t been abandoned long enough to draw the attention of gangs and was infrequently patrolled by overwhelmed police officers.

He could hear the quiet squeak as a grate was moved aside and someone pulled themselves up into the ductwork.  There were a very limited number of options, effectively cut in half because of the nature of Phil’s injuries, and Clint shifted backwards until he was wedged into a corner as far away from the silent presence as he could manage.

“Clint.”  The voice was nothing more than a soft sigh and Clint wanted to turn himself inside out to get away from the way his stomach roiled. The only reason he had been able to hear her was because of the way sound echoed in the narrow space.

Natasha’s hand dug unerringly through the layers of fabric and wound her delicate fingers through his hair.  Clint clenched his jaw hard against the sense memory of different, blunter fingers massaging through his hair and tries to pull free of Natasha’s grip.

Natasha lets him pull free without a fuss.  She doesn’t say anything else just starts to burrow down into the blankets, even though he knows she finds them stifling, and curls her slender body around him.

They lay like that for several moments before Clint let his coiled muscles relax enough for him to accept the embrace.  

Clint knew it was stupid but women had never frightened him the way that men did.  He was a big tough guy who could hold his own in all sorts of fights against men and Nat could break him two.  It didn’t matter what his head said though being with a man in any sort of romantic entanglement left him shaking and hesitant.  

Nat hummed tunelessly in his ear and she didn’t say anything and she didn’t touch his head and he really really just wished that he could have fallen in love with her.  He’d be down one sister but he’d never have to deal with this sort of fear again.

Clint cuddled closer to Nat’s warmth and he began to slowly allow himself to unwind enough to feel sleep do an about face and start nipping at his heels.  The darkness grew that little bit darker when his eyelids finally fluttered closed and he drifted off.

* * *

 

 

Clint’s eyes fluttered open as the soft glow of a flashlight swept across his eyelids a couple of hours later.  Natasha’s eyes were black in the dim light and he couldn’t make himself meet them.  

“Running away solves nothing.”

Clint reared back from the unexpected salvo and he rapped his head against a metal wall.  Nat shook her head at him before she placed something down in front of him.

“We’ll expect you back at the Tower soon.”

Nat slipped down from the duct easily, leaving the flashlight behind.  Clint’s fingers mapped out the edges of the phone that she had left before he forced himself to pick it up.

The screen’s brightness made him squint as he tapped it open and he had to turn away to let his eyes adjust.  It took him several long moments after that to force himself to look at the screen.

_4 Text Messages_

Clint bit his lip hard and he almost threw the phone away.  He didn’t want to read them.  Didn’t want to see what Phil had to say about the way he had broke and ran.  He hadn’t even waited for the elevator to open up.  Thankfully JARVIS was fully capable of telling friend from foe so he had climbed out of the top of the elevator and managed to scale his way up to the next floor without being cut to pieces by any sort of security.  

Phil’s voice had cried out after him, but his injury had kept him from grabbing hold of the younger man and Clint had fled ignoring the words.   He couldn’t listen to any more lies.  

The phone beeped in his hands, bringing him back to himself with a start and he hesitantly pushed the button to read the first text.

_Get back here. That’s an order Barton._

Clint felt his lips draw back in a smile.  That tone at least was familiar.  He swiped over to the next message.

_The elevator shaft, really Clint?_

Swipe.

_I’ve got Betsy.  Come back or the bow gets it._

Clint snorted hard. Swipe.

_Please?_

Clint breathed out, low and slow, as he read and reread that last message.  That piece of vulnerability that stone faced Phil Coulson had laid bare to him meant a lot.

The sudden vibration of an incoming text message made Clint’s attention jerk back to the phone in front of him.

_Are you afraid he’ll see what you see when you look in the mirror?  Nat_

Clint leaned close and slowly picked out his response.

 _Afraid he’ll leave when he does see me._  

The response was swift.

_You see better from a distance.  He sees better up close. Nat_

Clint leaned his head against the phone and clenched his eyes shut tight as he fought against his insecurities before he typed a quick response to two recipients and slid out of his hiding place.

_On my way._

 

* * *


End file.
